Sisterhood
by claire ok
Summary: A detailed account of Mary and Sybil's beautiful sisterhood, from glorious beginning to tragic end.
1. Chapter 1

**July 1895**

The shrill sound of a baby crying resounded throughout the household, and the two eldest Crawley sisters looked at each other in excitement. The service staff, although supposed to be carrying on with their everyday work, were crowded around the doors to Lord and Lady Grantham's room, right behind the soon-to-be older sisters.

"Is it a girl, O'Brien?" four year old Mary Crawley asked whilst jumping up and down. A young Sarah O'Brien shrugged.

"We'll see. Your father would rather it be a boy, but girls seem to have been on the menu the past two instances." She mumbled the last part so that Mary would not hear, although it would have gone over her head anyway. O'Brien bent down and picked up three year old Edith Crawley, who was attempting and failing to reach the doorknob on her own. It had been a shock to all of them when the Countess of Grantham had gone into labor so early; after all, she was not due for another three weeks.

Mary looked up at Carson and tugged on his sleeve. "Carson, Carson, Carson, when are we going to meet the baby?"

Carson smiled and looked down at the small brunette. Edith was quiet and well behaved, but even so, he'd always had a favoritism towards Lady Mary. "It won't be long now, m'lady."

Just then, the door opened, and on the other side stood the proud Lord Grantham. "Edith, Mary, come meet your new sister," he said, his eyes glistening with oncoming tears of joy. _That's as far as they'll get_, Mrs. Hughes, the head of the housemaids, thought to herself as she smiled. Lord Grantham was not one to cry.

Mary walked briskly to her mother's bedside, and Lord Grantham took Edith from O'Brien and brought her in as well. Cora was breathing heavily, looking down at the crying baby girl with such a love that only a mother can feel.

She finally looked up at the rest of her family. "Mary, Edith," she said to her two eldest daughters, "this is Sybil, your little sister."

Robert chuckled. "She looks just like you, Mary, the hair and everything."

Mary reached over and held her new younger sister's hand. She was not aware of it at the moment, but it marked the beginning of a sisterhood that would end up lasting very short for Mary, but would be lifelong for Sybil.

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**a/n **so this is somewhat of a repost of a story that i used to have on here; i got to ch 7 and then deleted. i really liked it so i'm reposting it and adding in the hella new chapters i wrote. enjoy &amp; please review! (they're not all this short i promise)


	2. Chapter 2

**1897**

"Mama!" six year old Lady Mary Crawley shouted from the top of the staircase. "Mama, come quickly!"

In her room, Lady Grantham was startled by the urgent tone of her eldest daughter's calling. She glanced towards two year old Sybil, playing in the corner with a few toys that Rosamund had sent as belated second birthday presents.

Cora sighed. "O'Brien, would you be a doll and go check on Mary? She sounds awfully upset."

O'Brien put one last bobby pin in Cora's hair to secure it tightly. "If you want to go check, I could watch over Sybil. It really isn't a problem, m'lady."

Cora smiled up at her handmaid. "That's okay, I'd rather watch over Sybil. She's getting quite adventurous lately; I wouldn't want to trouble you with her. And Mary's getting to the age where everything must be a dramatic scene, so I'm sure it's nothing."

"Yes, m'lady," O'Brien mumbled. She cursed to herself quietly as she closed Lady Grantham's bedroom door.

"Ms. O'Brien, I know you weren't referring to Her Ladyship in those words," a deep voice resonated behind her. The countess's handmaid turned around slowly, praying that it was not Lord Grantham. Fortunately, it was only Carson.

"My apologies, Mr. Carson," she mumbled as she headed for the girls' rooms. "It was nothing. Her Ladyship asked me to check on Lady Mary."

Carson nodded. "I see. I'll be in my office should you need anything."

O'Brien did not reply as she turned back around and made her way to the sound of Lady Mary's shouting. "Mama, Mama, where are you? Come quickly, please!"

"What's the matter, m'lady?" O'Brien asked the six year old in monotone. The fact that she had to refer to a spoiled little girl that was less than a sixth of her age as "m'lady" disgusted her to her core.

The teary-eyed brunette sniffed. "O'Brien, where's Mama?"

"She's watching over Lady Sybil, m'lady. She sent me to see what was wrong."

Mary sniffed. "Edith is being mean. She scratched my arm," she cried, shoving up her dress sleeve to reveal a small red scrape no longer than a fingernail.

O'Brien was equally amused and annoyed with Mary's dramatics. "I'm sure Lady Edith did not mean to hurt you. She's only five years old, you know."

Mary stomped her small foot on the ground. "Everyone always sides with Edith. No one ever takes my side. Not even Mama. She doesn't care, she's too busy with Sybil all the time."

O'Brien was antsy to get away from the angry little girl. "Maybe yo should talk to your Mama about it. She'll reassure you that you are just as loved as Lady Edith and Lady Sybil."

Mary huffed but obliged, running across the house to her mother's bedroom. O'Brien, satisfied, rushed back downstairs before another Crawley asked a favor of her.

Mary burst into her mother's room. Lady Grantham calmly turned around and smiled. "Mary, I thought we taught you that it's rather rude to enter without knocking."

"Sorry," Mary mumbled. "Mama, do you love Sybil more than me?"

Cora looked up at her eldest daughter, appalled. "Of course not, Mary, I love all of you very much."

Mary sniffed. "But why do you spend more time with Sybil?"

Cora patted a spot on the bed next to her for Mary to sit down. "Mary, darling, Sybil is still too young to do things on her own. She needs my help, and your father's. You are a big girl now, and I'm very proud of you for being so independent." The both looked over at two year old Sybil, who was wobbling across the room. Ever since she'd learned to walk she'd been harder to catch than ever. "Mary, Sybil is your little sister," Cora began. For once, Mary was silent. "You have to promise that you'll look after her, and help her if she needs it in the future. You two have to stick together. You're the oldest, and that gives you many responsibilities, including helping Sybil learn how to do things. You have to be a role model for her, understand?"

Mary sighed. "Yes, Mama. May I leave now?"

Cora smiled. "Of course."

Mary closed the door slowly and then sprinted towards her own room. She knew it wasn't ladylike to do so, but she had to move quickly. She grabbed one of her larger bags and threw some clothes inside. Inside of her small head, her young brain was racing for what else she needed to pack. _Food_, she thought, _and I'll need money_.

Mary had never been downstairs in the servants' and maids' corridors, but she knew that it was necessary to get the things she needed. Her large brown eyes grew even wider when she opened the door to the stairs going downwards; she was intrigued to know what went on while the service were not serving and dressing her family.

She was rather disappointed, however, when she saw that the walls were not as intricately decorated as the ones upstairs were; in fact, they were not decorated at all. No paintings of old people, no impressive chandeliers. Mary's thin eyebrows rose, but she shook her head and continued onwards.

She followed the delicious smell of chicken and eventually came across the kitchen. Luckily, Mrs. Patmore was nowhere to be seen. She opened every cupboard and finally settled on a few rolls._I can buy some more food later, when I get to the village_, she decided.

But then came the problem that was money: where was she to get any? She most certainly could not steal; that was not an option.

But she could always ask.

She found her way to Carson's office; he had always been her favorite. He was always very nice to her, whereas the rest of the staff seemed very short with her at times. She contemplated knocking but knew she hadn't the time. She opened the door and stepped in.

Carson looked up from his paperwork and was taken aback. "Lady Mary?"

She stood up as straight as she could. "Mr. Carson, I've decided to run away, and I wonder if I might take some of the silver to sell."

Mr. Carson processed this for a moment and then resisted the urge to chuckle. "Well, that could be very awkward for His Lordship. Suppose I give you sixpence to spend in the village instead?"

Mary shrugged. "Very well," she said. Then she remembered something that her father said about the integrity of purchasing things. "But you must make sure to charge me interest."

Carson smiled. "That won't be necessary, my lady," he said kindly.

"Well, I must pay you back," she said, troubled. She walked over to Carson and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you ever so much, Carson," Mary said excitedly, skipping out of the room. "I'll be sure to visit you when I am older!"

Carson chuckled when she left the room. He knew she would not get very far, what with the handmaids running around to get the dining room ready before dinner. He could not seem to shake the smile from his aging face.

Mary threw the money into her bag with the rolls and crumpled clothes. She snuck past the hurrying servants and butlers to the front door and slipped outside before anyone could see her.

Mary's little heart was pounding a mile a minute. She'd done it; she'd gotten out of the house unnoticed. She began to grow more nervous as she stepped onto the gravel in front of the massive estate. The crunch underneath her was both thrilling and anxiety inducing; she had never been outside without Mama, Papa, or her nurse Vera. This had been an afternoon of firsts, and the six year old began to rethink her plan. She didn't even know how to get off of he massive property, let alone to town. What would she do once she got to town? Catch a train? Get a job? Mary tried to picture her small self working at a market or driving a carriage. She giggled.

Although apprehensive, Mary pushed aside her worries and set off, her small periwinkle dress flapping in he cool breeze. As she began to walk, Mary saw a small figure leaning against the wall with its hands, far on the other side of Downton Abbey, near one of the side doors. She squinted; it looked the size of a toddler...

"Sybil!" Mary gasped. What was her sister doing outside, without guidance? Mary dropped her bag and ran over to her adventurous younger sister. "What on earth are you doing out here?" She took Sybil's hand and led her to the door to the study. "Papa must have left it open," she figured aloud. She sat down on one of the study's couches and Sybil followed suit, climbing up onto the couch.

"You scared me half to death, didyou know that?" Mary said sternly, copying the tone her mother used often.

Sybil shrugged. "Sowwy, Mawy," she said, and leaned over to give her older sister a hug. Mary wrapped her arms around her and put her chin on top of her head.

Carson walked into the room. He smiled when he saw the scene playing out before him. "Lady Mary? I thought you'd be gone by now."

Mary shook her head. "I've decided that I'm not going to run away anymore."

Carson grinned. "Good for you, m'lady. Now, let's get you upstairs so that O'Brien can get you dressed for dinner."

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**a/n **another chapter because these are already written and i couldn't resist haha (if you noticed the carson part was talked about in the show a couple seasons ago then congrats you're a downton abbey nerd) remember to review thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

**1899**

"The estate is beyond beautiful, Lord Grantham," the Duke of Wellsborough nodded at the Earl of Grantham. Robert grinned and raised his champagne glass; he never got tired of compliments, particularly ones aimed towards Downton, his life's work. He tried not to pay much attention to his sweltering legs in his suit. The only reason he'd agreed to the summer garden party was to please Cora, but she could not have picked a worse day: beads of sweat were forming on even the women's foreheads.

"How old are the girls now, Lord Grantham?" another noble asked over the soothing sounds of the violin in the background.

Lord Grantham looked around for his daughters, the only things he took more pride in than Downton itself. "Ah, I can't seem to find where they are. Chasing after Sybil, I presume. She turned four last week. Edith is seven, and Mary is eight."

"Eight years old already? Goodness me," the nobleman's wife sighed. In the midst of searching for his daughters, Lord Grantham spotted Cora, sitting under the tent and staring off into the field with a smile on her delicate face. To what she was smiling at he had no idea, as the large fir trees obscured his vision.

"Excuse me for a moment," he pardoned. He walked briskly over to his wife.

"What ever are you so happy about on this ghastly summer afternoon?" Lord Grantham chuckled. Cora laughed and pointed her chin towards three small figures, all in dresses, walking through the vast field.

"I just love to watch them," she marveled, absentmindedly toying with the bottom of her necklace.

Lord Grantham squinted. "Do that too long and you'll hurt your eyesight. It's brighter than heaven out here."

Cora remained smiling but sighed. "Oh, Robert, it's a mother thing, I suppose. There's no greater joy than seeing your children getting along with each other. Although, I must say, it seems Mary and Sybil are getting along with each other more than they are with Edith."

Lord Grantham watched his daughters along with his wife and instantly understood what she meant.

* * *

"Look at what I found," Mary boasted, triumphantly holding up a small, round flower.

"What is that?" Sybil inquired, looking up in wonder at the flower. It was hard to call it a flower, however, because it was unlike any flower Sybil had ever seen.

Edith snatched it from her older sister. "It's a dandelion, that's what. And I'm the one who found it."

"A lion? That's silly, Edith, lions are very much bigger."

Edith rolled her eyes. Mary snatched it back and turned to Sybil, smiling. "If you blow on it very hard, all of these little bristles will fly off. You're supposed to make a wish before you blow, and afterwards it will come true."

Sybil's eyes were wide. "I wanna."

Mary began to hand it to her youngest sister, but Edith took the dandelion back before she could. "I pointed it out to you, Mary, I get to blow it."

Mary yanked Edith aside. "No. Sybil is the youngest, so let her do it. Be mature, Edith."

Edith looked at the dandelion lovingly. "I haven't blown one in so long, Mary, please?"

"_No._"

But it was too late; there were already small, fuzzy pieces floating around in the small summer breeze. Mary opened her mouth wide, astonished. Edith looked frightened at first, but then crossed her arms invincibly.

"You aren't the boss of me."

Mary's face turned red. "I hope your wish was that I would not kill you."

Edith scoffed. "It's only a dandelion, Mary."

Just then, Sybil began to cry. She did not wail or scream; her mother had warned her time and time again that that kind of crying was for babies. Instead, she sniffed as tears began to roll down her cheeks, and the occasional sob was let out. "I wanted to do it."

"See what you've done?" Mary sighed. She began searching frantically, whipping her head back and forth, scanning the large field. "Edith, help me."

"I don't have to if I don't want to."

Finally, after a few minutes, she finally found another dandelion. Its stem was wilted and it was smaller than most, but Mary was willing to take anything. Anything to make her sister stop crying.

She ran over to Sybil, who was sitting in the grassy field, sniffing. Tears were dripping off of her chin. Mary knelt down and handed the dandelion to her sister. She remembered what her Mama had told her a few years before: she needed to help take care of Sybil. Mary figured that part of it meant making her happy, not letting her cry.

"Here you go, darling," Mary said, patting Sybil on the head. Her crying ceased, and Mary used her dress sleeve to wipe off any extra tears from her cheeks. Sybil took a deep breath and blew. She watched in awe as the dandelion fuzz spread through the air, dancing about in the breeze against the cloudless blue sky's canvas.

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**a/n: thanks for reading, drop a review if you like :-) sorry this chapter was so short ily all**


	4. Chapter 4

**1901**

All around the estate, every maid and even the footmen were bustling to finish cleaning up the messes around the house from the new year's party the night before. It wasn't just a regular dinner party; it was the turning of a new year, the first of the millennium. Needless to say, the Crawleys had invited more than just the Dowager Countess to Downton for the celebration.

"Good morning, Carson," Lord Grantham half-yawned as he entered the dining room, taking a plate from the stack and serving himself from the buffet.

"Good morning, my lord," Carson recited. "I hope you don't mind me asking, my lord, but have Mr. Crawley and his family stayed overnight?"

Lord Grantham nodded. "Indeed, they have. I hope you don't mind, but it was far too late to call for the chauffeur. We had O'Brien and another ladiesmaid make up some rooms, I'm not sure if you were aware."

Carson nodded. "No trouble at all, m'lord. They'll be joining us for breakfast, then?"

Before he could answer, eleven year old Patrick Crawley entered the dining room. "Good morning, Cousin Robert," he greeted Lord Grantham in a mature tone. Lord Grantham held back a chuckle; it was amusing to watch the future heir to the earldom act so manly with a voice that had yet to deepen.

"Good morning, Cousin Patrick. I hope you found your room to be most accommodating. My apologies for anything that was overlooked; it was a very last-minute decision."

Patrick shook his head primly as if he were an Earl already. "None at all. It was very nice."

Edith and Sybil walked in just then, tired expressions on their faces. "Good morning, Papa," they said in unison. Edith blushed when she saw Patrick walking over to place his plate on the table. She rushed to get her breakfast so that she could claim the spot next to Patrick.

"Good morning, girls. Mary's not joining us?"

Six year old Sybil shook her head. "No, she said that she wants a tray brought up to her this morning."

Lord Grantham chuckled at the idea of his eldest daughter sending Sybil down to get her breakfast fetched. "She's beginning to take after her mother. Is she ill or just tired?"

Edith rolled her eyes. "She was upset about something. She yelled at me to go away."

"Maybe that's because you told her she was being lazy," Sybil argued. Edith scoffed, but then composed herself to impress Patrick.

While Lord Grantham read telegrams, Sybil excused herself. Something about her oldest sister's tone earlier that morning was off, and Sybil wondered if she was ill after all. Mary usually could tell before anyone else when Sybil was coming down with something, and Sybil wondered if the talent had reciprocated.

After the long journey up the stairs, she knocked on Mary's door. "Mary," she called in her somewhat high-pitched little girl's voice. "Mary, all you alright?"

"Who is it?" the ten year old called weakly from the other side.

"Sybil."

"Is Edith with you?"

"No, it's only me."

After a moment, the door opened and there stood Mary, her hair still down in a braid and her nightgown still on. She stepped aside for Sybil to enter and then closed the door.

"Papa thinks you're starting to take after Mama, having breakfast in bed," Sybil said, sitting at the foot of the bed while Mary climbed back into the covers. Her tray remained beside her, untouched. "Are you ill?" Sybil asked.

Mary shook her head. "No, but I think I will be." She grabbed Sybil's small hand. "If I tell you something, do you swear to keep it secret?"

"Cross my heart," Sybil promised eagerly. She loved secrets.

Mary sighed. "Last night I overheard Granny talking to Papa and Cousin James. They were talking about me and Cousin Patrick getting married."

"Married? Of course not, Mary, you're only ten."

Mary scoffed. "Not now, silly, when we're older. But it sounds like it's already finalized. We aren't engaged, but we will be."

"But why? I thought you found Patrick annoying."

"I do," Mary said, her eyes glistening with oncoming tears. "I can't stand him. And probably because he's the next heir of Downton, after Papa and Cousin James."

Although she was only six, Sybil could feel her sister's grief and was desperate to help her. "Don't worry, Mary. Even if you have to marry Patrick one day, it'll be when you're older. Not all boys stay immature forever. I'm sure Patrick will have grown up by then."

Mary let out a small sob as she began to cry. Sybil ran over to the dressing table and got her a handkerchief from one of the drawers. "I want to marry someone I like," she cried. Sybil patted her shoulder. She hadn't ever been in this position before: it was usually Mary or her mother that comforted _her_, not the other way around.

"Who're you marrying?" Edith asked loudly, barging in the door.

"Edith, you don't have to be so nosy all of the time," Sybil said to her nine year old sister.

"Were you spying on us?" Mary asked angrily.

"I couldn't help but overhear," the redhead shrugged. "Anyways, now that I know, who're you marrying?"

"She isn't getting married yet," Sybil said. "Not for a good long while."

"Yes, but her future husband's been arranged," Edith pressed. "Who is it?"

"It really isn't any of your business," Sybil smarted. Mary sniffed into the handkerchief.

"Oh, and it's yours? Tell me or I'll tell Mama you're keeping secrets."

"Who else in the house is my age, Edith? Use that small brain of yours!" Mary yelled between sobs.

Edith gasped after a moment. "You... you don't mean Cousin Patrick?"

"What do you know, you _can_ think," Mary mumbled, her crying having slowed.

Edith's face fell. "Oh. If you... if you don't like him, you shouldn't have to marry him. Let him marry somebody that he likes."

"Like I have a choice, Edith, it sounded like Papa and Cousin James and Granny already agreed on it." Mary put her face in her hands.

Sybil patted her back. "Remember the story Mama told us? About how she and Papa weren't fond of each other when they were married, but then they fell in love? Maybe it'll be that way for you and Patrick."

"Patrick should marry someone that already loves him," Edith chimed in.

Mary looked up angrily. "We all know you have a crush on him, Edith, so stop trying to make this harder than it already is. Please get out of my room."

Edith huffed but obliged, slamming the door on her way out. Mary turned back to Sybil. "Thank you for trying to make me feel better, Sybil. I just don't want to fall in love with Patrick, is all."

Sybil nodded. "I'll leave you to finish your breakfast."

Mary shook her head. "No, no, stay. Don't have much of an appetite at the moment, anyways."

Sybil walked over to Mary's side of the bed and wrapped her arms around her. Mary did the same, resting her cheek on top of her sister's head as she always did. "Mama always says that everything looks better in the morning, only it's morning and everything is looking worse." Sybil did not know what to say, so she said nothing. Instead, she sat down in the comfortable chair next to Mary's bed, dangling her feet to see if she could touch the ground yet. She felt the tip of her sandal brush against the carpet and smiled to herself. Mary began to eat her toast, and the crunching sounds were the only noise in the room for a while.

"Ask me something," Mary finally said. Sybil cocked her head in confusion. "Ask me why things are how they are, like you always do," she clarified.

"Why?"

"I like answering," Mary shrugged.

"Okay, let me think," Sybil said as she wracked her brain for something she often asked herself. She always asked questions; it was a phase that most children grew out of by age six, but Sybil had yet to do so. She finally found one. "Why can't girls wear pants?"

Mary laughed. "What do you mean?"

Sybil shrugged. "Men wear pants and girls have to wear dresses all the time. What I want to know is why."

Mary shrugged. "That's just the way the world works, I suppose."

Sybil sighed. "That wasn't a very good answer even though you say you like to answer my questions."

Mary put her toast down. "I suppose I really don't know the answer. It's like asking why trees have leaves or why houses have walls. They just do."

"Hm," Sybil said in thought. Mary could see the little wheels in her mind spinning rapidly and she chuckled. "You'd better get downstairs before Cousin Patrick and Cousin James leave. I don't think they'll be staying for luncheon."

"Are you going to ring for Vera to get you ready before then?" Sybil asked as she stood up.

Mary shook her head. "No. I don't really want to see Patrick today, to be honest. It's too weird. Will you tell a fib to Papa that I'm feeling ill?"

Sybil nodded. "Yes. I'll try to make sure Edith doesn't say anything." Before she closed the door, she poked her head back into the room. "Mary?"

"Hm?" Mary asked as she wrapped herself back up in the covers, trying her best to look sick.

"I really, really hope you get to marry someone that you like."

Mary smiled sadly. "Me too."

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**a/n: **another day another chapter. your views make me happy &amp; reviews make me even happier just fyi


	5. Chapter 5

**1903**

"I'm just not sure if it's exactly flattering," Mary said aloud, more to herself than to her two sisters, who were sitting on the bed patiently waiting for her to be ready for dinner. Turning this way and that, Mary scrutinized every stitch, every movement of the dress that her Aunt Rosamund had gifted her. "I'm not sure it's the best fit."

"Then don't wear it," Sybil shrugged. "You don't want to be uncomfortable."

Mary ignored her younger sister's advice; after all, Sybil was only eight, what did she know? "Mama always says that discomfort is the price to pay for beauty," she mused, once again running her hand along the itchy velvet fabric, "although I must say that this gown is not what I'd call a masterpiece."

"Why would you wear it, then?" Sybil asked, absentmindedly twisting her finger back and forth through a loose string in Mary's bedspread.

"Sybil, darling, I don't want to insult Aunt Rosamund by not appreciating her gift," Mary reasoned. The youngest Crawley shrugged, knowing that there was no point in fighting a losing battle. The Crawleys were having a family gathering that night, complete with Lord Flintshire and his family from Scotland, the Dowager Countess, and Aunt Rosamund.

Eleven year old Lady Edith stood up suddenly, slightly startling young Sybil. She made her way over to the mirror and stood with her arms crossed, assuming a silent and impatient stance no more than a foot away from Mary. Mary looked over at Edith, unfazed and emotionless. "Can I help you?"

"Mary, let me use the mirror, you've been hogging it for half an hour."

Mary rolled her eyes and continued to scrutinize herself, this time running her fingers over her meticulously arched eyebrows. She moved her hand slowly, partly to ensure that there were no stray strands, mostly to annoy Edith. Sybil watched and winced at the thought of one day having her own tender eyebrows plucked hair after tiny hair. She wondered how Mary could bear such a pain, but she remembered what had been said earlier: discomfort was the price for beauty.

"Mary!"

Mary did not flinch despite her sister's shrieks. "Who've you to impress? Patrick Crawley isn't here for you to swoon over while he's looking at me. Of course, I suppose you're used to it by now."

Sybil tried to suppress her giggles as Edith's face turned as red as her hair. "You're heartless nowadays, Mary. I'll never understand why you're so cruel to me and so nice to Sybil."

Mary turned around. "Because Sybil's not a brat, and that's that. You can use my mirror for one minute; I'm counting. Sybil, darling, come here and let me tidy your braid, Vera must've been in a rush. It's falling out all over the place."

* * *

"Look at her go, my God," the Earl of Grantham chuckled as Lord Flintshire's one year old daughter, Rose, wobbled cross the floor unsteadily.

The Earl's cousin laughed heartily. "She's quite the fast learner. She went from scooting to walking, not much crawling in between."

"Our girls did enough crawling for all of us, I suppose. Mary wasn't walking until she was well past Rose's age," Cora added from where she was perched on the sitting room couch.

"Plenty of crawling from the Crawleys," Lord Flintshire said, and everyone giggled politely at the pun.

From beside her, Edith could hear Mary mumble something under her breath about how much she hated corny jokes. Sybil giggled at her comment, and Mary's usual frown curled up a bit at the corners as it always did when she was able to make her sister laugh.

Edith felt a pang of emotion, one she felt often while around her close sisters. "Of course you hate it," she whispered gravely to Mary. "You only enjoy dry humor."

"The driest," Mary agreed condescendingly, looking at Edith with a sinister, wry smile. Edith sighed in defeat. She and Mary had never gotten along, but recently it seemed that Mary took pride in her stone cold expression and vicious comebacks towards the middle sister.

Edith observed the interactions between her older and younger sister on the couch beside her. Mary treated Sybil as if she were her own child despite the mere four years between them; she talked to her lovingly and smiled when she could make her laugh. Similarly, Edith noticed Sybil's tendency to look up at Mary for signs of approval after speaking; this was rare, considering that Sybil's rebellious personality resulted in her seeking approval from almost no one.

They were close, and Edith resented them for it.

The redhead shifted her weight on the stiff couch. It wasn't that she craved Mary's attention at all; she almost laughed out loud at the thought of being worried about what Mary thought of her. However, she didn't necessarily long to listen to Sybil's incessant questions, either. All she knew was that she felt a sting of jealousy every time Mary lifted the corners of her eternal frown for Sybil and every time Sybil looked up at their older sister in admiration.

"Edith," a voice called through the atmosphere of conversation. The middle sister snapped back to attention and walked over to where her Aunt Rosamund was perched.

"Yes?"

"Is everything quite alright, dear?" Edith's redheaded aunt asked lightly, a glass of white wine sitting delicately between her fingers. When Edith didn't answer, Rosamund tilted her head towards where Mary and Sybil were sitting.

"I knew you'd feel this way someday," she said knowingly. Edith looked down, not sure of how to answer. Rosamund ignored this and continued.

"Between you and me, Robert and I were never very close either. I suppose it might be harder for you, considering there are two of them as opposed to one."

"And what am I to do?" Edith asked quietly. "Just stand by while they push me out of the picture?"

"Nonsense, you'll never be pushed out of the picture," he aunt insisted. "They just share a… a closer bond, is all. Nothing out of the ordinary there. Think about it, dear, you're only a year younger than Mary; she never got to play mama with you, but she can with Sybil. It's nothing to fret over, darling."

And as a tree does not mourn the loss of a leaf in the fall, Edith decided that she was not going to mind the loss of her siblings to each other. Or, at least, she'd attempt to try.

"Oh, look at how darling she is," Sybil sighed, watching young Rose stumble to and fro curiously. "It must be a great joy to have a child to watch. It's like a miniature version of yourself!"

The room chuckled lightly; Mary figured they'd all had a bit too much whiskey and rolled her eyes. "Nothing to wish for at this age, my dear."

"Yes," Cora agreed, grinning, "Someday you'll have your own children to care for, but for now don't worry about such things. And that goes for the three of you."

Despite having agreed with herself not to pay mind to Mary and Sybil's relationship, she couldn't help the opportunity to comment. "Yes, Mary, you should stop treating Sybil as your own child and more as a sibling," she whispered to her older sister.

Mary looked over at Edith, a stone cold expression as usual with a bit of a smirk. "Edith, there's a difference between treating her as my child and the simple fact that I like her better than you."

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**a/n **sorry it's been a couple weeks! i'm double posting as a sorry :)


	6. Chapter 6

**1905**

Two brunettes sat in the library, and not a word passed between them. Immersed in their own novels, they travelled to worlds far away from their own. It had always been a mutual agreement between them: never interrupt the other from their reading unless it was absolutely necessary.

Sybil read through the very last words of _Julius Caesar_and then set the book down on the table. Mary noticed and closed her copy of _The Aeneid._Classic Roman literature had always fascinated her, but she knew that Sybil would have questions. Although Sybil was very advanced for being ten years old, she was bound to be confused by some of the plot devices used in Shakespearean plays, and she wanted to be there to answer them.

"Done already, darling?" Mary asked when Sybil hadn't said anything.

Sybil nodded. "I still don't understand."

"Understand what?"

"Why they would go to such extremes. To kill Caesar, I mean. It was chilling, really. But why?"

In her head, Mary sifted through the hundreds of books she'd read in her spare time to try and remember the reasonings behind Caesar's dramatic killing. She became angry with herself when she discovered that she could not remember. "Well, for starters, it's a play. It's meant to be dramatic."

Sybil laughed and lightly pushed her sister's arm. "I know that. I mean... Why did Brutus give in so easily? And even when he knew that he was betraying his biggest benefactor, he still was the last one to stab him. How could you do a thing like that?"

"Enough greed and peer pressure could make anyone blind."

Mary picked up _The Aeneid_and continued reading. Sybil sighed and watched her sister intently. She never smiled, like she always used to. She didn't do things just because anymore. Sybil knew that the teenage years changed you, but she didn't want Mary to change quite yet.

"Mary?" she asked, and then followed up with a, "Sorry, never mind," when she realized she had broken the rule between them. Mary raised one eyebrow and then set the book back down again.

"Yes?"

"Nothing," she said, nodding for Mary to continue reading.

"It's something, I can tell from your tone," Mary said. "Tell me."

Sybil shook her head, standing up. "It's nothing, really. I'm going to go find Edith. You keep reading."

Mary stood up and followed her. "Sybil." Sybil stopped and turned around. Mary put a hand on her shoulder. "Darling, what's the matter? You can tell me."

Sybil closed her eyes. "Do you ever think of... death, Mary?"

Mary sighed; she shouldn't have urged her younger sister to read a book with such dark themes. It was irresponsible of her; no matter how mature Sybil was for her age, she was still only ten. But it was too late to do anything now. "I think everyone does, dear."

"But, do you ever think of what happens _after_ death?" Sybil inquired. "Do you really believe in God, or do you think there may be multiple gods? Sometimes, I'm not quite sure. Or, what if there's no God at all, and after death there's nothing?"

Mary was growing impatient with Sybil's questions; not because they themselves were bothering her, but because for once, she could not think of answers. "Sybil, grow up," she said earnestly. "Nobody wonders about those things in real life."

Sybil looked down, embarrassed. Mary instantly felt like an awful older sister. She wrapped her arms around Sybil. She was her guardian and protector from the real world, but sooner or later Sybil had to come to reality. And if Mary was being honest with herself, she did not want her to.

"Oh, darling, I'm sorry, that was rude of me." Sybil hugged her back. Mary hadn't hugged her little sister in a long time; in fact, she hadn't hugged anyone in a long time. It felt nice.

"You know," she said softly, "I don't think we should worry about death. We need to worry about one thing at a time, and first comes life." She felt Sybil nod, and then she pulled away, smiling to reassure her sister.

"You haven't done that in a while," Sybil said, her innocent smile warming Mary's heart.

"Done what, smile?" Mary chuckled. They walked back into the library, and Sybil started looking for a new book to read.

Sybil nodded as she ran her fingers along the spines. "Well, yes, that. But you put your cheek on my head, when you hugged me. You haven't done that in years."

Fourteen year old Mary tried to remember the last time she'd shown affection towards anyone in her family, and was instantly ashamed when she realized it had been a good while. She began to think about life and death again. Sybil's faint humming as she looked through the titles she hadn't read was the only noise in the room. One of the kitchen maids had passed away weeks before, and her Papa forced them to go to the funeral although the three girls hadn't met nor seen her. One of the maid's brothers spoke at the service, and he talked a great deal about never knowing when your time was up. At the time, Mary had to resist rolling her eyes or yawning, but now it made more sense in her head.

"Sybil?"

"Mhmm?"

"Forget what I said earlier. I didn't mean it, darling."

Sybil cocked her head, her back still turned to her sister as she looked for a book to read. "You said a lot of things earlier."

Mary sat down on the couch and dwindled her thumbs; it was a habit that Granny was insistent on breaking. "Never stop wondering about things. Please. Don't change."

Sybil turned around, a knowing look on her face. "Trust me, Mary, I wasn't planning on it. You can't break me that easily, you know."

For the rest of the afternoon, Mary sat quietly, watching Sybil. The way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she began to chew on a fingernail and then jerked it away from her mouth in an attempt to break the habit. She remembered how they sat on the exact same couch eight years ago, after Mary had saved her youngest sister from possibly getting hurt. In that moment, she realized that she could not imagine life had Sybil not been born. She couldn't imagine fending for herself with only Edith to play with.

She and Sybil needed each other.

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**a/n **this is one of my favorites :) review please!


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